


jackal in heat, spit dripping

by fragilelittleteacup



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Breathplay, Canon Trans Character, Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom Trans Character, Dom/sub, Drug Addiction, Drugs, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, Hacking, Intoxication, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marijuana, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Prostitution (referenced), Recreational Drug Use, Riding, Romance, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smoking, Switching, Topping from the Bottom, Trans Male Character, Transgender
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-06-17 03:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15452532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilelittleteacup/pseuds/fragilelittleteacup
Summary: “You like it, big boy,” Tony said, not phrasing it as a question. He smiled around his cigarette, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a dirty grin. Smoke drifted, a wafting cloud, curling about his face and settling thick in the air. His hair, tied back in a loose ponytail, was hot and heavy against the back of his neck. He reached behind him to twist it into a bun, still bucking his hips, the motion of his body uninterrupted.





	1. this mechanical impulse

**Author's Note:**

> This fic happened because I wanted to continue my other Tony fic, but can't handle the emotional investment of a multi-chapter story right now... So, yup. Porn. Written by a trans dude, about a trans dude. Enjoy. Check out [self-directed evolution](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11347884/chapters/25394661) if you're keen on the way I write Tony. I was way more dysphoric when I wrote that fic though, so it's a lot heavier than this one.
> 
>  
> 
> Titles are taken from [Animal by Against Me!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y6PTRq_vsdg) I don't have a beta reader.

Dizzy wasn’t as mean as he looked.

Granted, it took someone like Tony to draw that conclusion, and Dizzy was certainly as far from _boyfriend material_ as anyone could possibly get, but for a walking talking hand grenade he was surprisingly soft. Beneath those heavy tattoos, blurred green from cheap ink and years of harsh sun exposure, beneath those stiff leather jackets and steel-capped boots, he was too kind and intelligent for his own good. The slack-jawed, dead-eyed junkies that he kept company weren’t _quite_ his kin, no matter how much cocaine he snorted, no matter how many needles he slid below the scarred skin of his inner elbow. He wasn’t tough. He was _tired._

Tony had been running for a long time.

He was hardened in ways that Dizzy would never be. Dizzy had built an empire of code around him, managing his kingdom from the creaking seat of a desk chair, and he spent whole weeks indoors staring at screens until the madness got to him, until he sought the company of underweight prostitutes a couple towns over, trying to push back against the tide of absolute loneliness before it consumed him whole. He would pay extra just to stay for a few hours and try, desperately, to strike up a genuine conversation. Fuck, all he wanted was human connection. He was an insomniac. An addict. A _romantic._ There was a distance between him and the rest of the world that he’d never really been able to bridge, and it killed him. He got too high too often. He didn’t cope well with the comedowns. The burn corroded his brain, burning and searing and melting, bits of his consciousness floating free in his skull, everything grey and burning and dead. Half corpse, half man.

Dizzy didn’t just _want,_ didn’t just _desire_ a body against his, didn’t just have sex for the fuck of it _._ He _needed._

Tony didn’t.

Maybe that was why they worked so fucking well together.

 

***

 

Tony arched his body forward.

Dizzy responded beneath him immediately, chin tilting up toward the ceiling, lips parting in a helpless gasp. Tattoos were etched into almost every inch of his skin, a pair of wings dark against his sternum and across his pecs, mysterious and vivid beside the glow of a cheap beside lamp, but the truth of him was revealed in these intimate moments. He wasn’t a gang killer, or an apathetic junkie, or a streetsmart pimp looking to get his next fix– all those people, Tony was familiar with. Yeah, those were _his people._

Dizzy was just a man.

Tony was naked in his lap, cigarette held up to his mouth, inhaling slowly as he swivelled his hips. The curve of his ass was flush against the rough fabric of Dizzy’s jeans, cock deep inside, the pressure warm and _good,_ angled just right. He was content to take his time. This was the best kind of torture. Dizzy’s eyebrows tightened into a heavy frown, his eyelids heavy and his gaze drugged senseless by the greatest addiction there was. They hadn’t got high. Not tonight.

They didn’t need to.

Tony considered, as he swayed his body, flexing the muscles of his lower back just to hear Dizzy inhale sharply, that maybe this was the height of romance. Getting it up without coke or meth. Sure, they’d had a couple beers, but he’d seen the soft smile touching Dizzy’s lips before even the bottle did, felt the tentative reluctance of this evening’s first kiss. Dizzy got like that, when he was truly smitten. He became innocent. _Needy_. Pawing at Tony’s clothes like a puppy, kissing the scars on his chest, murmuring quiet promises he’d never be able to keep.

“You like it, big boy,” Tony said, not phrasing it as a question. He smiled around his cigarette, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a dirty grin. Smoke drifted, a wafting cloud, curling about his face and settling thick in the air. His hair, tied back in a loose ponytail, was hot and heavy against the back of his neck. He reached behind him to twist it into a bun, still bucking his hips, the motion of his body uninterrupted.

Dizzy groaned loudly. “You fuckin’…”

“Now, now. Patience, babe.”

“ _Fuck_ you.”

Tony’s smirk only grew, because Dizzy couldn’t begin to mask his desperation with half-baked insults. Tony slid his hand onto the sweat-slick curve of Dizzy’s neck, the ridge of a tattoo raised beneath his fingertips, and got a good grip. Dizzy’s eyes, blue as the summer sky in the absence of bloodshot yellowness, flashed up to meet his, and for a moment there Tony saw genuine fear in his face. But then that clever mouth twisted up into an eager expression, excitement sparking where before there was confusion, and Tony knew the game was on. He dug his thumb into the softness beneath Dizzy’s chin, pressing against his windpipe just hard enough to see Dizzy tremble.

He rocked his hips. The sound Dizzy made nearly broke his heart.

“ _Please_ ,”

“Shh,” Tony hushed him, “Shh, Diz.”

He got a rhythm started, stifled a moan when Dizzy’s cock sent a flare of heat flashing through his body like a firework. He didn’t want to come yet, and he didn’t want to show weakness. These nights were about Dizzy, more than anything else, and Tony enjoyed being in control. He loved it. He loved the way Dizzy lay there with mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips, clutching at Tony’s thighs like he could dictate any part of this experience, leaving bruises that Tony would massage in the days to come, fond of the pain.

Most of all, he loved that Dizzy _needed_ this.

It sure was a fucking ego trip, to be wanted this much.

Dizzy’s body pulled tense, muscles taut, practically squirming as he tried to suck in breaths through his teeth. Tony held on until the skin over Dizzy’s left temple was raised with a vein, his eyes losing focus, slipping into unconsciousness.

He let go.

Dizzy gasped for air, chest heaving, and Tony fucked down on him harder, skin slapping now. Dizzy panted, making tiny unsteady noises that had Tony elated beyond belief, overwhelmed by oxygen deprivation and arousal. Tony took a long drag, as if bored. He slowed his pace. Blew smoke toward Dizzy’s face just to see him cough.

“Oh fuck,” Dizzy began, words slurred and heavy, “Please, I need,”

"You'll take what I give you."

Tony inhaled another lungful, reaching down with his other hand to lazily touch himself, rub his fingers in slow circles. Dizzy lifted his head up off the pillow, gazing blearily down to where they were joined, like he was  _so turned on_ he couldn't do anything more than look.

"You're," he breathed, "Fuck, Tony, you're so-"

"Annoying?"

"-sexy, you're so fuckin' sexy,  _fuck,_  you have no idea how much,"

"You talk a lotta crap when you're on the edge, babe, you know that?"

"Wanna fuck you," Dizzy insisted, voice shaky, "every day, wanna fuck you every single day Tony, you're so fuckin' beautiful, I- I need,"

Tony looked down at him, amused and touched by the genuine honesty in Dizzy's tone. Being trans wasn't anything special in Tony's eyes, and he considered himself to be just another man; he could bring guys to their knees just as easily as if he had been born with a six inch cock, and he didn't give a shit about people who took the time to try and cut him down. That battle had been fought and won a long time ago. But Dizzy saw his strength, saw his pigheaded determination, and  _admired_ him for it. More than that, he looked upon Tony with a certain kind of reverence, worshipping a strength that Dizzy had never before been able to claim as his own. Submission ran through his veins like heroin, and compliance was second nature to him... Tony was everything he could never be. But maybe it didn't go that deep.

Maybe Dizzy just thought he was fucking hot.

Tony rode him like he had all the time in the world, like he could go forever and never stop, and the bluff may have been bullshit but Dizzy sure fell for it. He threw a hand up over his face, breath pitching into high, soft keens, composure breaking apart as Tony spread his legs and sank down lower.

"Such a slut for it, ain't you," Tony laughed, barely able to hide the breathy edge to his voice, warmth pooling in his groin, "My little baby boy, huh,"

Dizzy whimpered, flushed and humiliated now, ashamed by the praise but loving it all the same. If his  _friends_ could see him like this, the druggies and the skinheads and the hackers and the dealers, they'd be fucking stunned. He was broken down to the barest essence of who he was, the tiniest inch of control that remained. Tears glimmered faintly against his lashes, a strangely feminine weakness that contrasted with his thick accent and rugged masculinity.

Tony wanted to  _devour_ him.

Dizzy shivered, a plea getting caught in his throat and turning into a helpless whine, shudders quaking through him. His voice hiccuped into a peculiar silence as he was totally overwhelmed, and Tony knew him well enough to be certain they'd reached the end. Oh, he could keep going, push Dizzy past the breaking point and beyond, wreck him so intimately he'd take days to recover, but that wasn't what this was about.

He ground out his cigarette in the bedside ashtray, leaned down, slotting their warm bodies together. Everything was wet and smooth and tactile and slick. He continued to grind and arch, thrusting downwards onto Dizzy's cock, faster now. Enough to overwhelm Dizzy, enough to end this.

"You want it," Tony said, starting to breathe harder, "You want it, don't you."

Dizzy was nearly sobbing. "Yes. Yes, I fuckin',"

"Say it."

"I want it, I want you to– I want to come, I want to,"

Tony curled two fingers into Dizzy's mouth, the bed creaking in time with the pace of his movements. Dizzy's cheeks hollowed as he sucked, lips closing around Tony's knuckles, and Tony felt a flare of heat building inside him, a wave of all-encompassing emotion as he imagined Dizzy's lips wrapped around a cock. His cock.

"Come with me," Tony whispered, "Dizzy."

 

 


	2. knows no loyalty or mercy

Tony lay smoking, an arm draped across Dizzy’s shoulder, gazing blankly at the ceiling. He didn’t usually do this after fucking, but with Dizzy he was willing to give what he would not to others. There was an understanding between them that Dizzy’s devotion was not entirely reciprocated, but fuck, Tony wasn’t cruel. And, in his own way, he did care for Dizzy. He wasn’t in this because he wanted to hurt someone. That brand of sadism, gleefully employed by others, didn’t attract him. All he wanted was Dizzy’s cock, mouth, hands, and whimpers. It was a suitable arrangement.

He inhaled, thin paper crinkling against his lips, the blunt having been tightly rolled once they were done. The herb was quality. Dizzy had access to good drugs, the sort of stuff that would take you high and _keep you there_ for a good long while, floating up where the angels couldn’t reach. Tony closed his eyes, felt chemicals pulsing through him, sparking hot explosions behind his eyes, trailing clever fingers down his body and enticing him almost into arousal once more. He was too relaxed to go again, but still. This was like the best, most drawn-out orgasm he’d ever experienced.

“Fuckin’ fantastic,” he sighed.

Dizzy chuckled. Roughened fingers touched against Tony’s, the blunt pulled from his hand slowly enough that Dizzy was almost asking for permission to take it, despite being the one to pay for it. Tony handed it over, closing his eyes and just managing not to grin. Dizzy was so fucking cute, acting all shy. He wanted to be imposed upon, told what to do every single second they were together. That worked just fine. Fuck. If Tony were anyone else, he would almost be smitten.

There was the hush of air as Dizzy took in a drag, and Tony peeked below his eyelids to regard him. The curves of his tattooed shoulders, usually hidden by leather and chains and flannel, were oddly vulnerable, his body curled against the shape of Tony, bent around him, a knee drawn up across Tony’s thighs. Not clinging, but something goddamn close. Tony had admired men like him, once. Idolised them. The outcasts, the bikers, the dealers, the hustlers. A little boy with the wrong body and scabbed knees, eyes bright with dreams of the man he would become. Now, he stood above such men. He fucked them and left them cold, left them drinking heavy and starting fights, dreaming of the hoodlum thief that had defied all their expectations and stolen their hearts. He used his body as a weapon, kissed violent and angry, soft and tender when it hurt the most. A walking assassin, always hungry. Always ready to tear someone else apart to fund his next few months of life.

Oddly enough, and very much to his surprise, he didn’t want to do that this time around. Dizzy was different. Not _the one,_ or anything similarly stereotypical, but he occupied a place in Tony’s life that had previously gone unconsidered. A friend, perhaps. A lover, in ways nobody else had ever been.

A person Tony wanted to return to.

Dizzy handed the blunt back, lowered his head onto Tony’s chest. Nuzzled down into his skin, gently kissing the indents of Tony’s rips, pressing tiny pecks that tickled in the loveliest way. His beard was rough against Tony's skin, but it wasn't an unpleasant sensation. Tony continued to smoke, eyes closed once again, one hand wandering to play with Dizzy’s hair, idly stroking at his scalp. They were silent, then, for quite a while. Tony hadn’t ever been this comfortable with anyone in his life.

“I’ve been meanin’ to ask…” Dizzy mumbled, words loose and honest from the dope, “You stayin’?”

Tony hummed in consideration of that question. “Why?”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

Tony huffed out a quiet chuckle. “Maybe. Got a job with an old contact, could bring in a tidy sum. I’d be gone for a month, maybe more.”

“You’ll wind up back in prison, for fuck’s sake,” Dizzy protested, trying and failing to keep his tone neutral, “You could just stay, y’know. I got the credit card scams goin’ and all that shit, you wouldn’t have to risk it. Just…”

Tony had seen this conversation coming for a while now. “Just…?”

“Just don’t get yourself killed, you prick.”

“Aw,” Tony patted him condescendingly on the head, “You _care,”_

Dizzy batted his hand away, laughing now. “Fuck off.”

“You know how this works, babe,” Tony told him, voice gentler this time, “I do what I want, and you do as well. If I’ve got a job, I’m goin’.”

He felt Dizzy go still, and almost felt guilty, almost felt _bad_ for being honest. He reminded himself that it was better this way. He knew who he was, and lying about _love_ and _fate_ and _destiny_ would only fuck them both up in the end. He continued to run his fingers through Dizzy’s surprisingly soft hair, trying to reassure him with touch, trying to compensate for the words he had to speak.

“I’ll be back,” he promised, almost certain he was telling the truth, “Nobody’s got weed like you, man, I couldn’t leave this shit behind.”

Dizzy snorted, amused.

He clearly appreciated the reassurance.

 

 


	3. like an animal

He did the job. Split the haul. Came back with torn knuckles and six thousand dollars in dirty money, dumped carelessly onto Dizzy’s floor as Tony collapsed down into bed, exhausted from crimes that would go unreported and deeds that would never see the light of day. He kicked off his boots like this was his fucking bedroom, like he could just turn up after a week of radio silence and mess up the place. Well, he’d always been an arrogant son of a bitch, so he made no apologies for that.

Dizzy stood in the doorway, smoking, his face tight with emotion. He was upset, and Tony knew it. It made him feel guilty, which wasn’t fucking _ideal,_ because he hadn’t signed up for that shit _._ He rolled onto his back, groaning low and heavy, letting the sound linger in his throat. He stretched his arms above his head, let his shirt ride up, spread his legs. His jeans were torn, denim tugging right across his thighs, stretched over his groin.

“You put yourself in danger, taking that job.”

Tony ignored the whispered comment. He pulled off his shirt, threw it aside, ran palms down his bare chest. He knew how the bedside lamp glowed, how the warm hue settled over him, kissing the contours of his ribcage. Every dip and rise begging for Dizzy’s mouth, that tired gaze surely following Tony’s fingers down, down, down, past that thick thatch of navel hair, past that tight denim waistband…

Dizzy dropped his cigarette and put it out beneath the heel of his shoe. Tony grinned to himself when he heard the sharp metallic jerk of a zipper, the fast hush of fabric as Dizzy undressed. When he opened his eyes, he was looking up at a dangerous man, fisting his dick with fire in his eyes. Tony’s smirk grew. He unfurled his tongue, neck arching up off the pillow, and expertly swallowed down Dizzy’s cock.

He let out a choked hum when Dizzy thrust forward, inhaling patiently through his nose, eyes falling closed. His hand wandered to Dizzy’s hip, stroking a thumb over the beginning of his thigh. Yeah, he knew Dizzy was pissed, but that anger came from _love,_ baby. Tony knew what his man needed. Tony knew how to fix this pain.

“Tony,” Dizzy breathed, “Fuck, I missed you,”

The corner of Tony’s mouth tilted up into a half-smile. He was glad that the conversation had moved onto simpler things. He tilted his neck sinuously, eyes closed, sucking his cheeks in tight. Dizzy reached down and grabbed a fistful of Tony’s long hair, arching his wrist, looping it around his knuckles and _tugging._ With Tony’s neck held at a tight, uncompromising angle, Dizzy began to fuck his throat. Hard. Rough. Angry. Tony’s eyes watered, but that was only physical. He fucking loved this. He was used to fighting, he was used to conflict and power, so used to dominance and smart-talking bluffs. Sometimes it was nice to give it up, surrender to Dizzy’s fury. Ultimately, he knew Dizzy would never hurt him, would cradle him and kiss him softly if Tony ever uttered the word, ‘stop’. But he didn’t want this to stop.

This was their game.

 

***

 

When Dizzy got close, he paused. He was panting hard, sweat darkening the hair on his chest, skin damp by the lamplight. Tony coughed, swallowing a mouthful of thick pre-come, tongue covered in salty fluid. He pulled off his pants before they could even talk about what they were gonna do, lying naked on his stomach, the insides of his thighs already sticky. The bed dipped behind him, bending beneath the weight of Dizzy’s knees, and Tony was fucking _quivering_ with excitement. He didn’t want this often, and he didn’t give it up to most men.

“Fuck me,” he demanded breathlessly, lips muffled by the pillow, “Fuck me like you wanna hurt me.”

Dizzy had been about to ask, about to make sure that Tony really wanted to do this. Always the gentleman. So damn courteous and polite, even when he was fucking enraged, even when his concern for Tony’s wellbeing drove him insane, even when Tony was being a little asshole and making his life miserable. Yeah, this was love. This was _desire_.

Dizzy leaned down to kiss him, just once. The gentle pause before the oncoming storm. Their lips bumped and brushed, his body crowding Tony against the bed, trapping him still for just a second of intimacy. Tony kissed him back, trying not to resist the spark of _something_ behind his ribs, the tug of almost-pain that tenderness always brought. Then Dizzy straightened up, weight lifting off Tony’s back. No more hesitation. No more waiting.

They were fucking _doing this._

Dizzy took the base of his cock in hand, pressing up against Tony’s wet hole for just a moment before he pushed in. Tony shoved his face down into the pillow, yelling out, the small of his back tilting painfully when Dizzy’s hands closed in a punishing grip against his waist. His hips were flush against the curve of Tony's ass, Tony’s pelvis aching from the angle at which his legs were spread. He felt like a slut. A whore. And it was fucking _addictive,_ that delicious vulnerability, the feeling of helplessness when Dizzy yanked his hips back and then drove them forward again, forcing himself deep, skin slapping against skin when the fucking truly began. He pulled Tony back onto each thrust, and Tony whimpered every time.

“You love it?” Dizzy grunted the question like a goddamn animal, like he wasn’t a slave to Tony’s whims, like he wasn’t so hopelessly obsessed with his lover that he’d drop everything just to pick the guy up out of a ditch. It served them both well to pretend that Tony was the submissive one, at least for a little while. “You fucking love this, you slut? Huh? Huh?”

He punctured each question with a cruel push. Tony whined, gripping the pillow.

“Tell me you fucking love it!”

Tony cried out, the sound mangled and helpless. The bed frame was slamming against the wall, the lamp rocking, Dizzy’s pace unrelenting.

“I love it, Dizzy,” he groaned, words broken apart with hitched breaths, “I love- Fuck, I love-”

“Yeah? Yeah? You fucking _whore,_ fuck, you feel so good,”

Tony sobbed. He was split open, aching, thighs trembling, come dripping down his legs, thrilled beyond description. Dizzy was no lightweight. He’d keep going for ages, violating Tony’s body, moisture pooling on the sheets. Being fucked in the ass just wasn’t the same. It took trust, but Tony really did love the sensation of a man putting his cock inside his pussy. There was something so unguarded about it. Something so visceral. It’d taken him so many years to start enjoying this, see his body as male despite the surgeries he’d never be able to afford. Besides, every cis twink out there fucking _wished_ they had a hole like his.

“You like my pussy, Dizzy?” He moaned, eyes half-lidded, head lolling as his body was jolted.

“Fuck yeah I do,” Dizzy hissed, teeth clenched, fingers leaving cruel indentations in Tony’s skin. He liked this too, liked not talking about their _feelings._ Preferred it.

“You wanna hurt me,” Tony gasped, “You wanna wreck me, baby,”

Dizzy leaned forward again, grabbed Tony’s wrists. Held him down. Fucked him harder. Faster. In the midst of their violence, Tony smiled, face smushed into the pillow, laughter hysterical and exhilarated.

This was heaven.

 

 


End file.
